


Septicemia

by AustinB



Series: Bloodstream [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Origin Story, Origins, Vampires, WWII, how Bucky was turned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 01:36:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5648959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AustinB/pseuds/AustinB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pierce teaches him many things. Instruments, languages, the art of conversation, of interrogation. Some things Pierce teaches him, Bucky’d always wanted to know, back in Brooklyn, but was too scared to try and find out. Other things he wishes he didn’t know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Septicemia

* * *

The only thing Bucky's certain of, other than his name and serial number, is that he won't be walking out of here alive. He has no idea how many days he’s been in this basement, after his unit was captured, no idea how many times his captors have been to see him, how long since he ate or slept.

There’s something dripping down his arm and he’s not sure if it’s another leak from the ceiling or his own blood. The flickering lights hurt his eyes, so he closes them and tries to wet his cracked lips.

Some disturbance in the air makes his eyes fly open again, as if seeing what’s coming will make it hurt any less. The man standing there isn't any of the usual suspects though. Not the short doctor with the round glasses, or the tall officer with cruel eyes.

It’s a handsome blonde man he’s never seen before. He’s wearing a German captain’s uniform, the hat tucked under his arm, and a pleasant smile.

“My name is Alexander Pierce.” His voice is deep and smooth, ringing with confidence and power. It rolls through Bucky’s chest like thunder. “I’d like to help you.”

He takes two steps closer to where Bucky is strapped to an inclined metal gurney. Bucky would agree to almost anything to get out of here, doesn’t think there’s much that could be worse than this. But it seems too good to be true, too easy.

Pierce chuckles. “You are right to be suspicious. You show great strength of will.” With one hand, he breaks the manacles holding Bucky’s wrists and ankles. “Come with me.”

Bucky’s sure he should ask a question or two before following this man into whatever he has in store. He’s wearing German clothes, though he doesn’t sound German, and Bucky’s mind is too addled to do anything but follow the sure commands of that voice.

He can’t walk by his own power, so Pierce pulls Bucky’s arm over his shoulders and holds Bucky’s weight as if he were a child. They move down the corridor unhurried, until another German soldier comes toward them.

He yells something in German and Pierce responds in kind, but the soldier draws his gun anyway. For a brief moment, the solid support at Bucky’s left is gone. The German soldier falls to the ground, and before Bucky can crumple himself, Pierce is next to him again, holding his weight.

Bucky stares at the side of Pierce's face as he’s dragged along. His voice is a raspy, cracked whisper, but he has to ask.

“What are you?”

Pierce smiles down at him, both unnerving and comforting, but doesn't answer. He’s strong, that much is certain. Strong enough to protect Bucky, to save him. Strong enough to overpower him too, if he was so inclined.

Bucky doesn’t remember getting out of the building, or finding transportation, but when his vision swims back in again, he’s on a couch in a parlor decorated in purples and golds. Pierce is sitting on a velvet armchair next to him, holding something to his lips. Bucky takes one gulp and sputters.

“Ugh, what…?”

“My blood,” Pierce replies, and holds the glass up again. Bucky shrinks back into the cushions. “It will help you heal. Your wounds are severe, you won’t survive here much longer unless you drink, and perhaps not even then.”

His arms and legs sting all over. There’s at least one deep gash in his left arm that’s hot and swollen. The internal injuries are the most worrisome, though. He’s pretty sure several of his ribs are broken, and also possibly his hip, not to mention the head and body shots he’d been subjected to.

There’s something immovable about this man’s calm demeanor that makes Bucky obey. He opens his mouth and drinks another gulp of the thick, coppery liquid. Bucky’s vision is blurry around the edges, tunneling down to Pierce, and then fades to black.

He’s jostled into Pierce’s arms, limbs dead weight. The sounds of his body shifting are muffled, as if his ears are filled with water. His back is to Pierce's chest and he feels strong arms around his neck, two hands on his head, then his body jerks with a twist.

* * *

When he wakes up, his head throbs once with the brightness of the light and the clatter of noise, and then it clears. He feels jittery, like he’s just gotta move or he might vibrate out of his skin. He can feel the dew in the air, taste the bread baking down the street.

There’s a whoosh of air next to him, and he sits up to see Pierce standing in the middle of the room. He’s wearing sharp plainclothes; a beige suit and tie, and that same soft smile.

“You’re up. How do you feel?”

“I…” Bucky looks down at himself. He’s in clean clothes and can feel no trace of pain. Not only is he unharmed, he’s… more. “I can’t explain it.”

Pierce moves closer to cup his shoulders in both hands. “You get used to it. It happened so quickly last night, I didn’t get the chance to prepare you.”

It seems too fantastic to be true. They’re in a villa in France, and Alexander Pierce appears to be a wealthy businessman. Except he’s also a vampire. Bucky would’ve laughed in his face, but something about him makes Bucky think he wouldn’t take kindly to it. He wasn’t sure the display of strength he’d witnessed at the German prison had been a fever dream, but he feels it thrumming in his own veins now, too.

After several days at the villa, cataloging the differences in his body and abilities, Bucky begins to understand. Pierce feeds and clothes him, has given him a bedroom and a new life. He’s been saved, but he won’t be going home after all.

Pierce explains everything in a calm, patient tone. He’s been nothing but kind, if a little controlling. He wakes Bucky every morning just before dawn and instruct him as to what clothes from the bureau to dress in, and they spend much of the day together, Bucky asking questions and Pierce answering them, unless he’s called away to tend to business matters. 

Bucky is surprised to learn there’s a family waiting for him in New York. A family which Pierce heads. Carol, Erik, Charles, and a half dozen more. The way he describes it, the skyscraper and the bank accounts and the underground businesses, it makes him sound like a king. Maybe that makes Bucky a prince.

Pierce brings in women at first, then some men as days pass, and instructs Bucky on what to do. He hovers nearby, pulling Bucky away by the shoulders when the need thrumming behind his eyes turns frenzied and he’s suddenly no longer himself, but an empty shell. He’s punished for it, swiftly and severely. But Bucky's a quick study.

When Bucky runs out of questions, they simply talk. The war, business, people. Pierce is intelligent and intense in everything he does. Whether he's focused on the grape harvest or on Bucky, he gives all of his attention.

Pierce teaches him many things. Instruments, languages, the art of conversation, of interrogation. Some things Pierce teaches him, Bucky’d always wanted to know, back in Brooklyn, but was too scared to try and find out. Other things he wishes he didn’t know.

He can’t get drunk in the same way as before, but they sip glasses of wine and bourbon by a fire late into the night. When Pierce stands from his chair to retire one evening, he moves to Bucky and extends a hand. Bucky takes it without hesitation and lets himself be tugged up.

Pierce frames his face with his hands and kisses his lips. Just once, softly. It's hardly the first time, but it's usually accompanied by other things, not just a kiss for the sake of a kiss. He leans back to smile.

“I’m glad I chose you. We have a long time together. You’ll help me shape the next century.”

Bucky will do it. Bucky will do anything he asks. But he can't help thinking it sounds a bit ominous.


End file.
